Rhiannon's Tears
by Qualapec the She-Wolf
Summary: He swallowed the pride, the vomit, and the bitterness so as to let the emptiness consume him. Every day he was subjected to this. Every. Single. Day. Because that was what he needed to do. Because he had nothing left but his life.


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: Okay, this was written mostly because I haven't written anything in a while, and the poetry of this was too pretty to pass up. This started out as more of a poetic drabble than a one-shot, then became a short story in three parts...now it looks like it's going to be longer. Also: NOT YAOI! This is a serious attempt at maintaining character, under unbelievable conditions, in a relatively short period of time. Also, the name "Rhiannon's Tears" comes from the Welsh myth of Rhiannon, which this story is loosely based upon.

Rhiannon's Tears

Kisuke Urahara stared out at the emptiness of Hueco Mundo. He supposed it made sense, as hollows were by definition empty. Not that it was devoid of objects; it was actually filled with them. From the sand and moon to the sharp, bony trees, it was filled with _things_. But to be staring at a place that was so filled with _things_ and yet without meaning, without _life_...he would never get used to it. Even if Aizen kept him there for thousands of years, he would never grow used to the sharp, colorless lines that defined Hueco Mundo. It was like looking at a comic book before the artist colored it in or put in the speech bubbles.

His skin had become pallid in his time there. He had always been rather pale; the Celtic blood on his father's side ensured that. But being in a place without real sun had made it worse than ever. In contrast, his hair had become slightly darker. It had become more of a golden blond as opposed to the sandy color he'd had since he was a child. He doubted that it would become much darker unless, of course, the darkening of his hair was somehow symbolic of the steady darkening of his soul.

Kisuke sighed. If that was the case he supposed it would keep getting darker and darker.

At that thought he chastised himself. Here he was thinking about skin and hair when he should be at least pondering some kind of escape attempt. As pointless as that was, as a matter of dignity he should have still been considering it.

But when he considered it, there was one question that always came to mind and stopped the plotting right there: what would he escape to? The splintered remnants of the Soul Society would not take him in. Worst of all, he had no home to return to.

Immediately, blood and fire filled his mind. He'd lost everything that day at the end of winter. Every time he thought of it he felt a little bit more of himself die. Constantly he found himself pondering whether it was worse to force himself to forget, to save his soul the trauma of reliving a tragedy he could do nothing about, or to use the memories as a way to remind himself that he could still feel, even in a hollow world.

Eventually he grew tired of looking at the sands. Maybe someday, when his mind turned to jelly from the captivity, he would feel the desire to count each grain one by one, but today was not the day. Instead he retired to his quarters. There was still time before his...performance and he didn't want to spend all of it out there. Yes, everything in Hueco Mundo was nothingness, but he could just as easily be staring at nothing in a setting that had a vague trace of _something_.

There were no guards posted outside his room. Between the bracelet on his wrist, and the fact that there was nowhere for him to run, Aizen had determined that he did not need an armed guard. Whether this was because Aizen was busy crushing the last of the Soul Society's officers or him wanting to rub the hopelessness of Kisuke's situation in his face was debatable. Probably a little of both.

His room was like the rest of Hueco Mundo; filled with things without substance. Cloths in whites and blacks, statues and furniture in likewise colors. On a stand in the middle of the room, there was a sculpture of a vase with long, elegant flowers. They were almost lifelike. But the unnatural white was always a reminder that it wasn't real. They were made of the same stark crystal that made up the rest of Hueco Mundo. It was a mockery of life.

In the corner was his personalized section. A wall had become the host of rough carvings, each representative of a day he'd been there. For the first year it had been tally marks, until Kisuke decided that tally marks were just as boring and repetitive as Hueco Mundo itself. So instead he had began to make little images instead for every five days that passed. They had started out as stick figures, eventually they had become small animals. The little bears, dogs, mice, parrots and others gave him a sense of...self, even as he worried the man who had been Kisuke Urahara was slipping away. The figures reminded him of art and warmth. The action of tarnishing the ivory perfection gave him a vague notion of freedom and defiance.

Not once had he carved a cat. He didn't want to feel that alive.

As much as he wanted to, today was not the day he would busy himself with the task. He wanted to pick up the small piece of metal he used and start etching the new creation, but waiting for it was what kept him from getting bored. He made it five days because those were the number of days in which he would always want more. He had calculated exactly the number of days that the hopelessness of his situation would wear down on him and he would be looking for any way out. Savoring it kept him sane.

Instead he looked at the assortment of ivory musical instruments in his room. Aizen had originally intended to simply parade him in front of the new Espada every day as a prisoner of war. Then, at some point Aizen had come into the knowledge that Kisuke had musical talents. Now, instead of just being humiliated he had to participate in the show.

He had the sneaking suspicion that Aizen hadn't made this change just because he preferred music. It was also because he knew that music had been what got Kisuke into the Shihouin Princess's personal circle of playmates. Who would have thought that the street urchin that impressed Yoruichi by trying to steal from her would also be an incredibly skilled musician? It was through his skills in the art of deception that had brought him into the household, and his skills as a musician that had opened up the gateway for friendship.

Aizen was trying to take that away from him. He was systematically taking things that had once been Kisuke's, and he was making it clear that everything belonged to him now. He was making his victory complete. Piece. By. Piece. Just as he was wiping out what remained of the soul reaper resistance. Just as, piece-by-piece, he was creating another King's Key.

There was a time when Kisuke would have thought that Aizen's victory would be nothing short of taking the Throne of the Soul Society. He would have kept fighting even after Aizen was a deity incarnate. That was until he saw the raw carnage that Aizen was capable of. Meaningless slaughter with no purpose other than to baffle. Since the beginning Kisuke had been confident that he would be able to outthink Aizen. It was what he clung to. Even as the life he'd built burned, he clung to that hope.

The burning of the Urahara Shoten had been the last predictable move. Unfortunately, Kisuke had been unable to predict it.

Then Aizen began to act seemingly without motive. Still he won! With the plans of a madman, he won!

Kisuke had thought that he could keep fighting. But the battle wore him down. After every loss he'd suffered, every tragedy he'd witnessed, every death rattle that he was ultimately responsible for, and after the fall of the Seireitei was blamed on him, he saw no _reason_ to fight. He spoke and none would listen.

Aizen's plan had been not to have a plan. In acting as if he had a cracked mind, he had cracked the minds of his enemies. If he could completely remove his bias from the situation, Kisuke imagined that it would appear quite beautiful.

So now...he was the spoils of war.

He glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist. It didn't just limit his power; it kept his mind in check as well. While the thoughts were his, he found it hard to conjure any emotion behind them. Thoughts such as attacking Aizen, escape, or even...preserving what was left of his dignity came to no fruition. Not that suicide was high on his list of ways to get out of his situation. Still, the bracelet made it so he would never know how seriously he would've considered the option.

From now until the day he stopped breathing, he was the spoils of war.

Maybe this was his punishment. Maybe Aizen was meant to be a living god, and everything he had done up until then had been some sort of sin.

Kisuke stopped himself at that thought.

He almost felt like bursting into uncontrollable giggles at the absolute ridiculousness of that! If ever he needed reassurance that he had lost his mind it would be when he worshipped a false god like Aizen. That would be the day! No. If there were one thing he would hold on to no matter what, it would be his inability to bow before Aizen as a god. It would never happen. Never ever.

Shaking his head, he stalked over to the mirror at the end of the room. He was more groomed than he had been since he was a captain. The tight jacket felt wrong though. He'd never had clothes that fit him this well; looser clothing had always been his preference. The white jacket was perfectly latched up the front to hug the lines of his torso, all the way up to his neck, where the Mandarin collar clung like a choker. The hakama were the loosest part of the outfit, still they somehow managed to be tighter than any other pair he'd ever worn.

Without the hat, and after shaving, he looked younger. Prettier. He knew why Aizen oh so politely asked him to keep up his appearance. It was intimidation. Simple intimidation. He doubted that Aizen would use him in...ways like that, at least so far. Which was why he went along with it. As long as he wasn't resisting, then his position there would be as comfortable as possible.

He hated it. It sickened him. But everything considered, he was not above swallowing his pride. Imprisonment was bad. Imprisonment coupled with humiliation was terrible. Imprisonment and humiliation coupled with a stubborn prisoner resulting in torture...well, it was even less fun.

He wasn't stupid. And he'd prefer to avoid the latter situation.

Kisuke raised his eyes as he felt a faint prickling of reiatsu against his skin. Ulquiorra. He supposed that Halibel had been replaced after Aizen noticed how she had been looking at him during the last meeting. Just as well. Although...Ulquiorra looked like the corpse of a Spanish clown...Maybe it wasn't so much of an improvement.

Ulquiorra didn't knock as he opened the door. He opened it with the usual emotionless expression on his face. Or was there a slight trace of annoyance? As if of all the things Ulquiorra could be completely detached doing, escorting The Master's exotic pets was the one he detested the most. Kisuke wondered if that was because he saw such actions below him, or if he wasn't looking to repeat the experience that had caused Ichigo to leave that nasty crack on the leftovers of his mask. Ulquiorra didn't strike him as the type to be afraid of anything, but Kisuke imagined he was just as capable of disliking possible problems as the next guy.

Not that Ulquiorra had anything to worry about. Nobody was coming for Kisuke. As far as the remaining soul reapers were concerned, he was a traitor after all.

Involuntarily, he thought of the knot of scarred tissue on his back.

For a moment, he felt sad, very similar to the feeling he'd had after being condemned by the Central 46. Actually, it felt a little worse. He'd done everything in his power to help them, sacrificed more than any of them, and in the end they had cast him out like he was the _enemy_.

He did his best to push that feeling back. He needed to have poise for his daily dog show.

Kisuke forced the muscles of his mouth to form the ghost of a smile, "Ulquiorra, what a pleasant surprise. Halibel busy?"

Ulquiorra ignored him, "Aizen told me to bring you to the central meeting room, and you are to bring the harp today." Having delivered his message, he stood at the door like a good little guard.

Kisuke strode over to the harp. He ran his fingers over the handle. During his time in the human world, he had gained an affinity for all sorts of instruments. The harp was one of his favorites.

"Lord Aizen is waiting. I'm sure you know what will happen if you fail to amuse him."

Kisuke faked a dumbfounded expression on his face. "I assume he'd have to amuse himself."

The blank, sea green stare told him that the Espada was not entertained. "I do not care whether he has to amuse himself. However, given your situation, you should."

There was no real need to respond to that. In general he avoided conflicts with the Espada. A flippant remark here or there when the urge hit him, but he knew that if he pushed them too far they would vivisect him. Given all he'd gone through to survive, that would be extremely counter-productive.

Instead he grabbed the harp and followed Ulquiorra down the corridors of Las Noches to the main hall. While Kisuke had a general dislike for Las Noches and every-one-and-thing inside it, he had to stare at the engineering feats accomplished. Everything was dull, everything was the same, but it was _huge_. There was a part of him deep-down that still loved the sciences of the spiritual plains, and would still love to get his hands on the kind of technology that had formed such a massive castle. A very small voice reminding him of his love of learning...it gave him a slight comfort to know it was still there.

He was led down long corridors that all looked the same. Ulquiorra turned at what seemed to be odd places. Kisuke could make his way around his living quarters, and the small area around it, and he had made sure he could find his way to the main hall if he needed to, but if he tried to go anywhere except those two places he would get irreparably lost.

He never expected the change in castle structure where the uniformed hallways opened up to the meeting room. By the time he turned that last corner the monotony usually tricked him into thinking that nothing would change. Instead the white marble expanded outwards into a room that rivaled the largest of ancient human designs, though it lacked the character possessed by such architecture.

Whoever built Las Noches, they'd done it in vast scales. The hallways were large, the meeting room was mammoth in comparison, and the throne room was larger still. Kisuke was sure that was one of the reasons that Aizen had chosen Las Noches as the center of his empire; he wanted a citadel that would match his deity complex.

On the subject of the Lord of Las Noches...

Aizen had a natural aura about him. If nothing else made him bearable to be around, it was that charisma. He was filled with emotion, as if he didn't realize that the empty dead surrounded him. He treated them like he would people...not that that meant a whole lot coming from Aizen; he had been known to be downright cruel to them. Those that crossed him were tortured in the vilest ways that Kisuke could imagine. For a while, it had seemed shocking to an outsider that they followed him like they did. Especially after it had become obvious that the Espada didn't feel any sort of personal attachment to Aizen. Kisuke had more than once heard whispers that hinted most of them would kill Aizen themselves if they had the freedom to do so.

After Kisuke had come to live as they did, he realized what it was. It was that vibrant life, the desire to conquer, rule, and control all things that brought the hollows to him. Kisuke had observed that this gave Aizen a greater power over them than even his remarkable spiritual abilities. For creatures that lived in a world devoid of those things, to kill the monster bringing back the light that had been taken from them would be like cutting off their own arms. No matter what the sentient Arrancar wanted, the animalistic pieces of them bound to Aizen would not allow them to kill him.

It was hard to be in the position he was in and not sympathize with the Arrancar. They were in the same place in life: bound to a man they hated for reasons they couldn't fight.

Today Aizen was lounging in his throne while the Espada sat motionless on their chairs. The only one not bothering himself with good posture or respect was Grimmjaw. Ichigo's bitch slapping hadn't done the Arrancar's manners any good. Grimmjaw was still the one that Kisuke knew would kill him first, enjoy it, and might or might not worry about the consequences. Of the Espada, he alone refused to hide behind false civility. It was slightly comforting until Kisuke remembered how depressing it was that he was comforted by barely restrained bloodlust. The others either glanced at him with complete disinterest, or didn't even look at him.

Gin possessed the serpentine smile that Kisuke had come to associate with him while Tonsen observed with milk-white eyes and a slight expression of morbid curiosity. Gin was merely waiting for the day Aizen gave the okay for Kisuke's torture and Tonsen found it distasteful that Aizen continued to parade him around instead of a simple execution. Kisuke found that both practical and hypocritical.

Kisuke did not take the time to glance at his escort, or even hesitate at the threshold of the room. He smiled. He walked into the room. He even bowed to Aizen without hesitation. He exchanged words with him, managing to slip in the traces of banter that he knew Aizen enjoyed. He sat down on the side of the throne like a minstrel existing outside of all order but the king's. He played for a lifeless crowd the same as he would for a lively bar. He swallowed the pride, the vomit, and the bitterness so as to let the emptiness consume him. Every day he was subjected to this. Every. Single. Day.

Because that was what he needed to do.

Because he had nothing left but his life.

Never did these things become more apparent than when he was shown before the Espada. It was why he dreaded this time of day. It made him realize what a coward he was. He realized how far he had fallen from the warrior he had once been.

He was always on the verge of breaking by the time he finished the last piece of music.

He smiled. He bowed to Aizen. He made to leave the dog show without being bothered further.

"Urahara?"

Oh.

"Could you be so kind as to join me for tea?"

Shit.

Kisuke fought back the moment of anxiety. He knew that avoiding it would do him no good. There were a number of things that Aizen could have been after, and insulting him by refusing would only encourage him to more violent forms of entertainment. If he didn't break his own arm, Aizen would break his legs. If he didn't join Aizen for tea, Aizen would kill a soul reaper rebel right in front of him. That was the way it worked. Therefore, he knew he had better damn well consent.

Kisuke walked up to the taller man as he rose from his throne. "Of course, Aizen. It isn't like I have anything better to occupy my time."

Aizen smiled. Where Kisuke's smile was entirely false these days, Aizen's was hauntingly genuine. It was the kind of smile that would have gained him friends on the subway or votes on the podium. That smile had fooled people in the Soul Society for centuries. Kisuke didn't think Aizen could have done all that smiling if he didn't mean it. What made the smile scary was what he was smiling _about_. Someone tells a joke. Aizen smiles. But Aizen isn't thinking about the joke. Aizen's thinking about how to go about physically, emotionally and socially ruining the person telling the joke.

He only ever smiled when there was malice afoot in his mind.

Kisuke returned the expression as a submissive gesture, hopefully reminding Aizen not to break his favorite toy.

Again he entered the long passageways of Las Noches and pondered where they would end up. He tried his best to keep track of the twists and turns on the off chance that Aizen was leading him to his personal chambers. Terribly stupid of Aizen and incredibly unlikely as it was...one could hope. Eventually the silence caused him to lose track of his surroundings and instead focus on what exactly Aizen had in mind.

Random bouts of cruelty were uncommon but not unexpected. He'd been subjected to the horrific illusions of Aizen's zanpakuto more than once as a form of torture. Frequently the other man dropped little lies about how the Espada had found another of Kisuke's former group of friends and allies. The little lies were the worst; he never knew which parcels of information were true or false. He did his best assume they weren't true for the sake of his mental state, but there was always that doubt.

Kisuke also knew that Aizen was probably going in circles on purpose just so he could allow the unease to naturally amplify. If that's what he was doing...well, that was an _incredibly_ bad sign. When Aizen started playing mind games over such insignificant things then it was a very good bet that he was warming himself up for Something Bigger.

After an unnecessarily long and anxious time spent in the hallways they exited at a door guarded by two Arrancar males. Aizen greeted them in friendly tones while they said nothing in response. Again, that little scientific voice wondered if it was that kind of treatment that warranted such animal loyalty from the Arrancar.

No. That wasn't the answer. He had already tried a variety of greetings to get on the Arrancar's better side without having any affect on them. Aizen had something else. Or maybe that something else was in addition to the way he spoke to them?

The ex-shopkeeper pushed those little anomalies way back where they would stop bothering him. He had far more pressing problems.

Out on the balcony there was a table and two chairs sprouting up from the quartz surface. On the table rested a teapot and cups of the same material. Aizen was first to take his seat. As he sat he sent an absent and narcissistic hand though his hair to keep it in place. Kisuke wondered how he had such excellent hair in a place where the phrase 'hair care products' was alien.

They didn't speak as Aizen poured the tea, his hands as deft and elegant as any geisha's. Various references to the Mad Hatter's tea party in _Alice and Wonderland_ were really all Kisuke found himself able to think about in those long moments.

The Lord of Las Noches took his first sip. "I don't know why humans take the time to muck up a good black tea with sugar. It's supposed to be bitter." And the game began.

"Well," Kisuke said with an exaggerated wrist flick. "When you rule the world you can change that."

"You're forgetting, Urahara, I do rule this world." He waved a hand to exhibit Las Noches and Hueco Mundo.

Kisuke took a sip of his own bitter tea. And it _was_ bitter. He'd never wanted to taste motor-oil, but he was pretty sure it would taste like that. "Yes, good for you. You rule sand, hollows, and not a packet of sugar in sight." He knew that such an openly defiant statement was risky. Depending on Aizen's disposition he could either be amused or enraged. However, it would tell him something he desperately needed to know about the other man's mood: the more sadistic or manipulative he was feeling the more amused he would be.

"Soon I will be able to say the same for the Soul Society. There I will rule more than sand and hollows, as you phrase it." Not amused. Not angered. There was nothing to give away his motives.

Inside Kisuke cursed. Whatever Aizen had in mind, he was masking his intentions as best as possible. "There all you'll rule is rubble and human souls," he spoke with a darker lilt to his tone. He was trying to anger Aizen now. This was not his greatest idea ever, but better than waiting around for Aizen to play his little game.

As the luck that hated him with a passion would have it...Aizen wasn't going to be angered. "And not a sugar packet in sight," he said with a wolfish grin.

Right then Kisuke knew beyond a shadow of a doubt this experience was not going to be a good one. As he swirled the liquid in his mouth he struggled to check it for any difference in taste between his current cup and any other cup he'd had at Las Noches. Had Aizen drugged it? He would have been stupid to put it past Aizen.

Aizen observed, feeling out every action and analyzing it. After a while he broke the silence again. "Do you not like your tea?" It was spoken with false friendliness and genuine humor.

He resisted the urge to tell him it tasted like motor-oil. "It's fine. I just usually prefer green tea."

"I'll see if the Arrancar can get some from the Seireitei's stores, assuming it hasn't all been burned by now." After saying that and replacing his first cup of tea on the slab, his disposition seemed to alter towards the negative. Kisuke could sense the faint change in Aizen's reiatsu.

He was done playing.

"How much would you like to return to the laboratory?"

Kisuke blinked. Those had been the last words he had expected from the mouth of his captor. "That some kind of a euphemism for 'Torture Chamber'?"

"No. I mean it in the sense of a place where experiments are carried out for the purpose of finding the truth behind a hypothesis." He paused before adding, "And before you go thinking down those routes: no, you would not be the one tested on. I'm talking about giving you your own facilities to do with what you want. In exchange you will work for me on certain tasks."

Those words sent shivers down his spine. The idea -not just the idea, the _proposition- _of working with his mind again was more than anything he ever hoped for. His four years there had been a never ending blur of black lines and white filling. For a very long time he had been tortured with the knowledge that he would never have a life. It was the price he paid for survival.

But now...Aizen was offering him a chance to do something, to have a purpose in his prison, and to have something to occupy his time with. A challenging task to break up the monotony of his existence there. Boredom could drive a man insane; both men knew that.

...Was it worth it, though? The kinds of projects that Aizen would put him to work on might drive away his sanity even faster than the boredom. He knew what kinds of horrific things had gone on in Apollo's lab. Hell, he knew what kinds of horrific things went on when Aizen had a goal in mind. There were some very dead people from the Rukongai, and some very transformed former captains to attest to that.

He knew what the right answer was. Damn it all.

Steadily, he met Aizen's eyes, feeling stronger and more resolute in his feelings than he had in a while. "...Do I want to work in a science-sense again? Yes, I do. But not badly enough that I want anything to do with the tasks you would give me."

Aizen was watching him with that Mad Hatter's smile. "You seem to misunderstand me, _Kisuke_. I haven't kept you so comfortable this entire time because you're such a cute pet. I protected you because I knew your particular gifts might come in handy at some point. If not for that I would have given you to the more creative Espada or Gin a while ago."

Kisuke felt sick. The thought of what some of the Espada (or Gin) would do to him was enough to make him reconsider his decision. Was it in his best interests to take this stand, now of all times?

But...wasn't that another reason he knew it was a bad idea to do this? Aizen wanted something. Otherwise he wouldn't risk handing over spiritual technologies to an incredibly intelligent captive. Kisuke remembered what happened the last time he'd invented something Aizen wanted...it had eventually boomeranged towards him and stolen what mattered most.

He remembered them calling for help...closely followed by feeling the weight of the scarred tissue on his back.

Suddenly, he felt wholly sure that he would rather his brain melt in boredom or torture than partake in whatever Aizen wanted. Somewhere deep down where he could still feel emotion, the small bubble of hope that rose when Aizen proposed the job was dashed against the very sharp rock of his morals. He had to draw the line somewhere and this was where he chose to put it. Aizen wouldn't kill him, but he knew the relative comfort he had existed in up until that point would disappear.

"Let me put this as simply as possible for you, _Sousuke_," he said, leaning as close to Aizen as he dared. "It's not happening. I will not partake in any actions against the Soul Society."

Aizen didn't do anything for a moment, it seemed as though he was teetering somewhere between emotions and the slightest thing could push him in any direction. He was pondering what had just happened and was deciding on what his next move would be. He must have decided to return to a bribing method after determining that threats wouldn't work right then. "Naturally, I would not ask you to do anything directly against the rebel soul reapers. Think about it, is that really in my best interests to give you a task I know you would sabotage? No. My general concerns would be with regards to Hueco Mundo itself."

Oh, how Kisuke wanted to believe those lies. Like all good liars Aizen told lies that his quarry wanted to hear. More than anything else that was how he'd gotten so far into poor Hinamori's heart. Right then, Kisuke wanted to say 'yes'. It sounded perfect: a release from the pain of dullness without the emotional burden of being attached to the slaughter. It sounded good on paper.

But that was the biggest problem with liars. They _lied_. In a distant universe, if Aizen had been some competitive lord on a feudal territory, he was the kind of man that took acres when he was given miles. Aizen would find a way to lure him into increasingly violent and cruel actions. He would lose more of himself than he had already lost. Still..._was it worth it?_ He'd already given so much; a part of him was tired of fighting it.

Aizen still had a good point...he would not give Kisuke the means to sabotage his plans, hinting that anything Kisuke would work on would be of the nicer variety.

Right, words that went well together? Aizen. Nice. Unlikely.

Kisuke tried to buy time by taking a bitter gulp of tea.

Aizen mirrored the action and waited until Kisuke had gone for another sip before saying, "What if I promised asylum for the surviving members of your personal circle?"

This, naturally, caused Kisuke to inhale with such speed that he almost choked on his motor-oil. As it stood the bitter liquid slid down his throat, irritated his lungs and vocal cords, and caused a violent coughing fit in front of the most dangerous man in three worlds. When he was done hacking he rasped, "What?"

"Those who you befriended in Karakura, and the captains that had been your friends will be spared by my decree. They will be brought here, and will live very much like you have." He paused putting a hand over his cup to prevent the sudden gust of sand from the desert from tainting it, acting as if what he said was nothing profound or difficult. Then, almost to himself, he added, "I don't know. Perhaps that would be too much of a shock to you? Going from one extreme to another in the form of loneliness to companionship might be too much for you."

No. No. No. No. No. NO! Kisuke didn't want to hear this. It was everything he'd wanted, everything he'd forsaken. Aizen was handing these things to him on a silver platter. Any second now, Aizen would burst into laughter and say 'Just kidding, they're all dead' in some eloquently cruel way.

That didn't happen. The seconds ticked on with Kisuke staring at the other man in a very shocked manner.

His bracelet may have limited his power and his emotions, but fear and pain were emotions that Aizen had left unaffected. Kisuke didn't want to be in that place when Aizen ripped the carpet out from underneath him. Rising from his chair, he made to leave. Maybe the guards at the door would stop him? Maybe Aizen would have him punished for such insolence? None of that mattered. All that mattered was leaving. Letting everything Aizen had said die out over days was preferable to being crushed the instant after believing it. He also wanted to take the temptation away...assuming anything Aizen had said was true. This was something he couldn't say 'yes' to and remain himself, but Aizen was making it impossible to say 'no'. That was two out of two very good reasons for leaving.

Within moments he had his hand on the door handle. He was turning it when Aizen finally stopped him. And he wasn't stopped in the manner he'd assumed he would be. His scenario for his exit being prevented had involved Aizen attacking him with sudden and violent ferocity. This scenario would have meant his being extremely lucky Aizen didn't behead him on the spot.

Instead, all Aizen had to say was five little words.

"Yoruichi Shihouin is still alive."

Kisuke stopped.

"I'll have you know that means she will be captured when she is found. She will be brought here." Kisuke couldn't see Aizen, but he could feel the penetrating eyes burning between his shoulder blades. Aizen continued, his voice as low and alluring as the snake in a holy garden. "You can have her at your side while you watch my world come alive in the fires of the old."

He made to turn around and face Aizen, but something stopped him halfway.

She stood next to him. Her long, plum-colored hair was held up by the finest jade comb he had ever seen. Inside, he ached to reach over and pull the restricting hairpiece out, just to watch the hair spill wildly over the red kimono and golden haori. Embroidered in these cloths were the images of dragons and phoenix circling each other around a pearl that was clutched in the four claws of the dragon. She met his stare with eyes matching in color to the haori. They were stoic, infinitely regal, and beautiful. There was nothing in the lovely curves of her face to portray anything but the image of the Tenshi Heisoban. There was none of the hate or hurt or dread he had seen in her eyes the last time they had met.

Yoruichi Shihouin's likeness stared across at him from what seemed like a vast expanse of space, but was really only yards. Even seeing her resemblance after four years was enough to make his heart and throat spontaneously combust. It wasn't so much that he had never gone four years without seeing her, without running his hands though her hair, without speaking to her, or hearing her laugh. They had left things in such a terrible state...he feared their next meeting.

Yoruichi had always believed in him when others thought him insane or malevolent. She alone had grinned and said he was not insane but Machiavellian, not evil but gray-area. Of all the things he had lived through, he would have taken any alternative to being called 'traitor' by Yoruichi.

If he hadn't known it was an illusion he would have immediately dropped to his knees and begged forgiveness. Even if it wasn't something he'd done, the thought of their last encounter made him want to atone for it.

"Make it go away." He didn't want to look at her any longer. The fear and pain were tearing him up, and he did not want to come apart in front of Aizen.

Kisuke didn't see Aizen wave his hand, but the illusion left slower than it had come. It faded slowly into the crystal and sand like a mirage of an oasis.

A relief overcame him the second she was gone. His mouth felt dry. Like someone had shoved charcoal down it. As steadily as was possible under his shaking nerves he walked back towards Aizen and the tea. He poured himself a second cup of the vile concoction and used it to wet his throat.

He was certain Aizen noticed the shaking of his cup. Damn it.

With a sudden desire to act out the anger he should have been feeling he slammed the cup down on the table. Actually, it came out more as a clatter. He didn't even manage to chip the bottom. Like so many other things in Hueco Mundo he found himself confused over the cause of the outburst and the weakness behind it. Emotion-limiting kido could do that.

He faced Aizen.

"How do I know you aren't lying?"

"I don't really know if there's a way to prove that or not." Aizen had an incredibly smug expression on his face. "But you can't say no, can you? Not if there's a chance."

Son of a bitch...he was right. A part of Kisuke knew that Yoruichi would rather die than become a prisoner. All that power, that strength, would within a moment be nothing more than a decoration. He could get away with it, but she would have withered in captivity. A part of him didn't want to inflict this on her. That same moral section of his soul knew that she would never forgive him.

But there was that other part of his mind. The same area he once used for resisting temptation had weakened due to constantly bending to the will of another. This part of him wanted nothing more than to know that Yoruichi (and everyone else as well, but they were a secondary concern) would be safe. They would be at his side forever. Perhaps then he wouldn't truly lose his mind watching Aizen's world burn. To have her at his side, even hating him, might have been better than watching her die like he often had in Aizen's illusions. He would lose only a piece of himself as opposed to the whole thing. With any luck that would be the space in his psyche that had been gangrenous and eating away at him for years.

Kisuke knew he would regret this. But, as had been previously stated, he had no choice.

He took a breath.

"What do you want?"

Because his life wasn't all he had anymore.

Her life.

Their lives.

Something to live for.

How selfishly selfless.

"Good." Aizen seemed pleased that his snare had worked. "Your first task will be to inspect the corpse of Ichigo Kurosaki."

VVVVVChapterEnd

AN: Well, I think that went nicely, don't you? Thanks to Nimblnymph for proofreading.


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